The world is starving for variation and things dynamic. The world requires nothing from humanity and yet things static and universal seem to rule all. Why? The idea of variation and dynamic is simple and because of that life wouldn’t be where or what it is if things were static and universal. Or? At the least, things dynamic are worth fighting against. Right?
While visiting the Tuscany vineyards in 2005, beyond the astonishment I experienced of the beautiful landscape, the rolling vineyards with perfectly manicured vines, I had to face the onslaught of elitist Americans who could still afford the weak dollar abroad to sight-see and, of course, drink; in contrast I wasn’t a tourist. I was on a mission from God to fill a German cellar with Italian wine.
Being judgmental is a very rude thing to do but I do it all the same. Don’t ask me why? What I don’t do is put it out there for everyone to see. Unless you want to know how it came to be that the image of children “playing” in a sandbox symbolizes the(ir) future. The only thing I ask when pushing (as I am now doing) my thoughts and ramblings as (worst)writer is that you do not assume, like other judges, that I’m being hypocritical. My Tuscany visit was not of my own doing. I am not the elitist nor do I strive to become such. To be clear: I am nothing more than baggage and I really do prefer to be left alone to waddle around in this society of baggage carriers.
Why is it then that I get so perturbed by Americans that can afford in this economy to spend two weeks in Tuscany drinking wine and not reading a damn thing to help better the lives of what in reality they are all running away from? The reason is simple:
Merit
Or should I say…
There is no such thing as a meritocracy!
While waiting in the lobby of a hotel in Tuscany for my girlfriend (she was getting ready for dinner) I ran into three New York women fresh from a long day of wine-tasting. Two of the woman were retired public school teachers and the other was the assistant to the director of New York City public schools. They heard me using American English on my handy and when I was done the assistant to the director of New York City public schools mentioned from across the way:
“Oh, how is he,” she said, referring to the book in my lap.
I was reading “Lincoln” by Gore Vidal and without haste I uttered: “He’s fine…”
“It’s not good,” she asked, assuming that my response was within the realm of skepticism.
“Of course it’s good. It was written by a brilliant man,” I said with a bit more confidence.
“I’ve never understood where Vidal is coming from, you know what I mean,” she asked.
“What does that matter? At the least he writes about the truth.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re right. But I just don’t get him.”
“Well, you should give this a read then,” I said and tried to get back to my book.
She remained standing and massaged a look into her face that couldn’t relieve the want of a question to coincide with an answer that she thought she already had devised. When the two other women left for their rooms I assumed that the one who stayed wanted to spend a bit more time weakening the effects of only tasting wine. Instead she sat down in the chair across from me.
“I’m curious,” she said. “What do you think of him?”
Exclude most superficial dialog here. Continuing with – the gist of it.
“…I can understand that people consider Vidal a bit wordy or perhaps a bit anti-American. But honestly, if you want to read about the mind of a president and how he made some very difficult decisions and was eventually annihilated for it, this is the book. Lincoln was truly the last great president – with those who followed him you could wipe the floor.”
“Oh,” she said. “I really don’t understand him.”
“OK.”
“But he’s so… How can I put this without sounding… I mean, he’s so… Elitist,” she said.
I was a bit taken-aback with someone who lives and works in New York City claiming someone else is elitist. I thought and/or judged (her): New York City; perfectly manicured hair and finger nails; she still sits with a straight, stiff back as though her lost girl-ness was poured into her spine and hardened like the concrete used in the Berlin wall.
“So… Because you think he’s elitist you don’t read him? Seriously, especially now, after what’s been going in the world, this book is more valid than ever before. The way Vidal describes Lincoln’s decision making and the interaction among his cabinet members… In a way you get a picture with this book about what it means to vote and have your vote heard. It’s utterly brilliant the way Vidal portrays Lincoln.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about voting, too. I mean, what is wrong with our country? It’s such a relief to get out. There’s no talk radio in Europe is there? When I’m here I see different things. Hear different people. Do you have any idea why the red states have become so powerful?”
She sat back in her seat and crossed her legs.
Luckily my girl came down stairs all freshly showered with her thick dark hair brushed and no lipstick. Our magical dinner of red wine, Italian ham, anti-pasti and fresh bread was just around the corner. But I’ve been trapped before by Americans traveling around Europe. They all think that America is screwed up and getting out for a two week vacation is gonna answer any of the existential questions they have about the soil on which they were born. When they meet Europeans who can see through the idiotic foreign policies that are only feeding war mongers and profiteers I’m probably somewhat of a relief to chat-up. I can actually understand the politics that are governing the US post cold war. I can even understand how my home country has become overly self-conscious regarding its odd status in the world (and perhaps even in history). And I can disagree with America’s antics in a way that isn’t just US-bashing. Also, due to my effort(s) in becoming an ex-pat, it’s not that easy for the traveling show-case of elitist tourists to see that my heritage is the trailer trash that is now occupying their lives and making what little spec of American culture there was prior to Ronald Regan a gaseous cloud of methane rising out of the mental trailer park that has become…
The United Mistakes of Amerika
I gestured to the New York City woman that it was time for me to go. She acquiesced and the conversation ended with one last question.
“What is it that you think we can do to make things better? America can’t go on like this. You live abroad, you don’t know what it’s like back home.”
I told her that I had no clue. Which was a lie. I have the answers to everything. I wished her a nice remaining stay and recommended she try something from Montepulciano.
Don’t worry. To sooth your soul the truth about anything is NOT out there.
Just rant.
-tgs-
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